It was… troublesome for lack of a better word. Troublesome to slip away from the presence of the floral woman who seemed to lurk just out of sight whenever she did not lounge over top of him like some sort of cat. Appearing in places one never would have expected her to be. A bad habit of showing herself the moment a guard was down which only brought anxieties to flourish. It felt as if he were being watched, near jumping at ever shadow those first few encounters though over time her’s had been a presence accepted. One fated to never be rid of and while she had been surprisingly absent for nearly a full day now, it didn't stop a mind from assuming she was near.

Why wouldn’t she be? She seemed keen to follow, to step beyond any boundary attempted to be set in terms of shelter and those wandering hands for so often they drifted from injury to fiddle with the mask adorning his features. That was nothing she needed to see, nobody needed to. Yet vexing as she was, Persephone had proven herself useful. Whatever manner of sorcery she held it gradually mended the carving of talons, steadily pieced together fragmentation of bone until weight could once more be bore in limping gait. Nerves repaired and burns lessened, sensation in each of those seared limbs restored over numerous treatments. While nothing lay fully healed such marks were a far cry from what they once had been.

But one question still burned. Why? He could never understand the whys behind her actions for what could she possibly have to gain from this? Selfishness she had claimed though that only left him wanting to ask more even as tongues refrained. However, no matter the truth of her reasonings the crow supposed that he should find a way to thank her… how he wasn’t certain yet surely there was time to figure that out. She hadn’t vanished on him yet and likely wouldn’t until either essence or a body could mend injuries in full. Fulfill her self-proclaimed duty.

Short sigh fled his lungs as such thoughts filled the mind. If he wished for peace then he would just have to heed her words, tend to things best he could until she made a reappearance. Perching upon a fallen tree gloved fingers ran briefly over the coverings of a leg. Out of everything it still hurt the most and despite her reassurances a silent worry lingered that the thrum of magic would not hold. That it may splinter anew if he were not careful with it… better to just leave it alone. Instead hands shifted, shrugging out of the trimmed coat and pulling an arm free of concealment so that eyes may gauge those tinted bindings with a frown. Breath hissing sharply between teeth as slowly he tugged to unwind it.

Helayne Ilirum She woke later than normal, opening pale eyes to full sunlight shifting through the treetops overhead. She could hear the soft whisper of the spring breeze in the tall grass, the rip and tear of Freya’s teeth pulling at her morning meal, the rustle of Sif’s wings somewhere overhead. She pulled the furs wrapped around her a bit tighter, unwilling to move for the moment. Her body still ached from the battle with the dragon, muscles taught beneath her tan flesh. She rolled her back first, trying to loosen the knots there. Heat radiated against her, pressing into her belly. She paused, momentarily confused before she remembered the clutch of eggs that had sat beneath the beast she’d faced only days ago. Hel pressed her palm to the scaled egg, marveling at the warmth that seemed to pulse beneath that hard surface. Forcing herself from the comfort of the bedroll, she sat up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders, staring at the egg for a moment, wondering silently how she’d care for this strange creature. Hel had grown up raising a variety of animals, but never a dragon. She wasn’t even sure she’d have believed they were real if she hadn’t faced one herself. All she’d known was that she couldn’t leave it behind. Something had pulled her towards it. The egg trembled suddenly, as though it could sense her doubt and worry. Freya as well snorted, coming closer seeing Hel awake. The mare herself was rancid enough at times to have dragon’s blood she supposed, and they got along for the most part. Creasing her forehead in thought, she moved quickly to start packing up the small campsite. It didn’t take long, she’d been too sore and tired to do much more than lay out her furs and fall into dreamless sleep. Hel wrapped the egg carefully and tucked it into one of Freya’s saddlebags. The mare turned curiously at the object, snorting her own consistent disapproval. Without a word, she swung up into the saddle and moved out deeper into the wilds. Some hours passed before she’d stumble upon a familiar face, er, mask. The young boy she’d seen battling bravely, yet practically torn apart at the battle with the beast was resting on a fallen tree, his hands kneading into a practically whole leg it seemed. ”Oh, it's you!” She breathed a sigh of relief to see him. ”Glad to see you still whole, I was worried when I could not find you after the fight.” She slipped down from the mare’s back, giving a tentative smile in his direction. ”Are you okay?” Probably a stupid question considering what he’d been through and how frail he seemed already, but she asked all the same.

art by Rainarda

There had been vain hope he’d be left alone by the unknown, granted a moment of peace in this strange realm after the floral witch had not shown her face. And yet the steady beat of a creature’s steps reached his ears. A heavy sway to it as all no doubt adorning a monstrous hide creaked beneath its own weight. Different than the slinking presence he’d slowly grown accustomed to but whoever this was… it wasn’t her. They bore the mark of a stranger and that alone was enough to put the grounded bird on edge. Attentions quick to flash toward the towering equine when they broke the clearing, a creature who seemed to bear a sinister stare all its own.

Breath snorting as the one perched atop the beast’s back bid them to halt. Focus flickering toward the unknown once those lips had parted. Exclamation met with his own, “Gethrisj mojka draushum maulk.” Instinct bidding hissed breath to rise, to go on the defensive when confronted by one so unfamiliar. Those features faded, unable to be grasped behind the haze that had so quickly consumed his mind against the draconic. Even still, she was somewhat recognizable… but still a face without a name, a soul that could not be trusted.

Figure tensing as those boots hit the ground, hand darting away from bandages to seize the hilt of a silver dagger. Though not yet loosed from its sheath for it seemed one would come no closer. Content to offer what - to he - appeared as false warmth, a smile uncertain in how it etched across her lips. Expression far from the twisted grins he’d grown familiar with in the clan but not one he could accept as wholly friendly.

Leslie hardly noticed the way breath had hitched, stalled in his throat as he stared toward the unknown. Breath falling in shaken exhale upon the sole question asked of him. One which held an obvious answer to any who beheld what had transpired and the crow was sure she did not truly need lyrical confirmation to sway her judgment. Though she would not be kept to silence, allow a moment for his mind to process all else she’d said. “Mahhn persvek ir inloil mi si ti?” Barely, but nothing had been lost. Everything still mostly sat in its proper place. To him, that counted even as pain radiated along each point of contact.

In time it would fade. It always had before, though never had it been the sear of flames to mar flesh. Fangs… fangs were familiar. At least they would heal the same as any other that already marked his hide but fire was different. Thought which bid fingers to coil ever tighter as if in silent assurance those charred digits still flexed. Motion which stirred another shallow hiss though with it came refusal to release the silent promise of a blade. Suspicion an unending plague within those rosen hues as gaze fixated upon her. A stare not faltering even as those words lay processed.

Worried she’d claimed. Perhaps it was simply in the nature of those who dwelt here to fret, to worry over those unknown. A far cry from those who’d raised him and yet this pity, their sympathy sparked distrust. A gnawing notion he was unable to escape from. “Kii xihood svern vi bveckoilt? Wux tir ti tangis vucot ve,” and perhaps she wouldn’t care to. Yet as he searched her face, hoping for some sign of her speaking true there came remembrance of how death’s envoy found little understanding behind a native tongue. Those of this land did not speak it, if they did he had not met them yet… a fact he was slowly grasping.

Unease settling throughout his very being. It limited communication, his own ability to grasp the tones which fell from another’s lips. There would always be bits and pieces. Portions learned over the years through infrequent encounters with those outside the clan’s ruins when steps dared to stray alone, when allowance was granted to wander alongside one’s betters. But here was different. This was not some temporary escape. Those once known lay far across the sea, however, the crow remained on edge. Fearful. Distrustful.

Breath huffed free as attentions dare not stray as if attempting to commit a face to memory, searching for phrase she might understand before tongues clicked behind their veil. Disjointed tone slipping free, a heavy accent twisting already broken phrase, “Am fine.” The lie obvious in the ways he shifted in place. Fingers hesitantly releasing their white knuckle grip upon a blade, a coat yanked back over the bindings of an arm to keep it from her view, “Why you care?” Query reflective of the very same he’d asked of death’s envoy, one he did not intend to follow into the dark embrace. “Hurt. Not dead,” and Leslie did not plan on meeting Nelithral again so soon. Even passing contact with the reaper was enough to last a lifetime. “Alive. Like you,” gesture made toward the unknown. Assumptions placed that she suffered little injury based on how she stood, how she allowed concern to bleed so freely toward another.